Beyond Panem
by ThroughTheStars394
Summary: Katniss and her family have been invited to go overseas to Europe. It doesn't take long for Katniss for discover however, that someone is on her trail.
1. Chapter 1

**NOTE: For anyone who has NOT finished the entire trilogy, this DOES contain spoilers.**

_Please review and enjoy!_

As I grip the tiny, unsure hand of my son Finn, and the reassuring, strong grip of Peeta's, I stare at the shining marble floor of the airport and wonder if this trip was worth it. Right now, I'm having second doubts about crossing the borders of Panem, the seas, this trip Peeta, and eventually me, were so confident of. I guess it can't be too bad, considering that this country called France has made sure that we have top-notch security and all. But still, why did we have to come along with President Paylor?

I feel a slight tug on my shirt from my daughter Primrose. "Mama, Mama, when can we go?"

"Soon, sweetheart, " I answer somewhat wearily. We're waiting for a woman named Colette, and she was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.

I let go of Peeta's hand and gaze at the people passing by. A child with a reddish sauce stain on his shirt toddles by. A woman artfully done up, running flustered towards a door. A man with a somber expression walks slowly, a briefcase in his hand. These people are used to nice things, happy moments and have been for a while. They are secure and stable and will be for a long time. And probably watched as the people of Panem were murdered, brutally, each year, without a single fleeting whisper or shocked expression, never calling for aid. I hate them for that. But maybe they never knew. They should've tried though, at least.

A woman almost completely done up in black greets us, interfering with my musings: "Hello. I am Colette. I do apologize for the delay, but-"

"It's fine, " Peeta interrupts, even though to me, it's not. "Go on."

"Yes, well, as I was saying, I am sorry, but let me show you to your quarters. Come, " she continues. I grip Peeta's hand again as she leads us out of the glass doors without a single fingerprint.

I slide into the car, which thankfully doesn't hover, and squeeze my eyes shut. The car smells of-of-roses. Not the sickening, heavy perfume of President Snow's genetically altered ones, which curled up my nose and threatened to choke me, but a softer, sweeter smell, a natural smell, although there isn't a single rose-whole or petals-to be found. But I still hate the smell, which brings back memories I've been trying so hard to shut out of my mind: The spear entering Rue's body, Cato being ravaged by those bloodthirsty mutts, Mags running into the poisonous spray, Wiress's bloody death, Finnick being torn to pieces by lizards, Prim-sweet, wonderful Prim-on fire, a human torch…

I'm covered with cold sweat and the car has slowed to a halt. "Katniss, Katniss, are you all right?" asks Peeta.

"You must know…"I whisper to him, because he does know, should know…

"Yes, Katniss, I do. But look, we're here at the…hotel, " he whispers back.

"A hotel?" I ask. I have never, not once, heard the name "hotel."

Peeta shrugs but says, "Colette says that a hotel is someplace with an abundance of rooms that people can temporarily stay in."

"Oh." Well, this is something new, but the idea isn't shocking or repulsive.

Colette ever so daintily leaps out of the car and says, "Room 121 is where you'll be staying. Ask the people at the desk for your entry card."

Peeta and I nod and I almost immediately take hold of Finn and Primrose's hands. Who can I trust?

We get the plastic green striped card and find our way to Room 121, on the third floor. This place is almost like the Training Center in a way, but this place I like better, for whatever reason.

Peeta opens the wood door, and that's when it hits me. The smell.

It chokes me, consumes me, and brings even more of those nightmarish memories at a rapid pace that I can't handle.

Because on the first bed, so carefully placed-and intentionally, too-is a single, genetically altered white rose


	2. Chapter 2

**I know this was a fast update, sorry about that! But I'm itching to write though, so here it goes and please review!**

_What?!_ Who here would know about my twisted, fractured relationship with roses, white ones that are genetically altered? Even in Panem no one knew-no one except for Peeta.

"Katniss," he says softly, his voice but a whisper. He embraces me, but that doesn't stop the cold sweat, the memories. But still, for one sweet, almost blissful moment I allow him to embrace as he is now, caressing me, and if it weren't for that heavy, sickening perfume, I can pretend we're back in District Twelve.

But we aren't. My eyes flutter open and I almost retch at the sight of that rose. Primrose seems to like it however, placing it between her index and middle finger of her right hand. I've told her many things about the nightmare I lived through, back when I was younger, but never the roses. Every time I attempted to tell her, my nose would clog and my throat would close, because even trying to brought the stench back. But I have to tell her.

"Prim? Prim, I need to tell you something. Set the rose down and listen to me," I venture cautiously, with a tremor in my voice. She decides to listen but refuses to set the rose down. I sigh. "Prim, please?" I almost beg.

"Fine," she says almost defiantly, half-tossing the pure-no, not pure-white thing on the ground. "Tell me."

I take a deep breath and begin, "During the rebellion, President Snow…he would place roses in an area where he knew I would be. So he could send me a-a message, in a way. They were always white, and always genetically altered. Either way, since then, I can't stand roses. You remember…"

She nods. Of course she remembers. It wasn't very long ago, the incident.

It was a mid-spring day. The birds trilled and warbled sweetly and merrily, more so than I had ever heard them. The sunlight was soft and gentle and there was a refreshing warmth in the air. It was a gorgeous day, to be short, and even I felt that it was going to be a perfect day, that everything was going to be all right. Which was utterly wrong.

Primrose was playing outdoors, in the Meadow, over the dead bodies, but just then I was able to forget about the dead bodies-the bodies of Madge and Peeta's family and everyone else. Her brown hair flowed behind her like a river of-what was it called-chocolate. Her blue eyes were sparkling in the sun, and from what I could see on the front porch of our home, she had found something delightful and wanted to show it to someone-most likely me.

"Prim, " I'd called. "Prim, what'd you find?"

She beckoned for me to go over there and so I did. I smiled at her and she grinned back, and then the stench curled delicately up my nose and it wasn't long until I was on the ground, choking and retching. I could only think of one thing: Peeta's torture. So there I was, screaming my head off at the first white rose I'd seen in years.

"Mama? Mother?" she'd screeched, but I kept screaming.

Peeta ran over to the Meadow, his hands and apron covered with creamy white flour. He didn't utter a single word, just carried a screaming, crazy me towards home. Or tried to. I wouldn't let him. For one single moment, the rose stench still in my nose, I thought that he was a peacekeeper, dressed in crisp white. I left one small, but bloody scratch down his left cheek, but he still carried me inside, where the smell of baking bread calmed me. And even though, later on, after I awoke from the drugged sleep Peeta placed me in, when Prim had asked me why I was screaming over a trivial thing like a rose, I refused to tell her.

"Now you know. And throw the rose away, please, " I conclude.

She obeys, and I make my way outdoors. Who did it? Who placed the rose? Paylor surely wouldn't, and definitely not Peeta or my children, so that leaves Colette. Is she after me? Or did she just not know? I think back to the moment in the car ride here to this hotel, when I had realized that the car smelled of roses. Maybe Colette has a fondness for roses and wanted to place a rose in our room as a welcome present. But why a white, unnatural one? And how would she have gotten in our room anyways? More importantly, who could? Surely those people at the front desk wouldn't have granted her-or anyone else-access to the room-right?

I need to go somewhere. Talk to someone. Paylor. But where could she be? How can I contact her or anyone else to meet her? Probably I can ask Colette. But I don't trust her-not anymore, at least. But she's all I have, and what evidence do I have that she did it, and to send me a message? Oh well. I don't know how to contact her though, either-but then I see her. Right there, by the hotel door.

"Colette! Colette?" I call.

"Hello Ms. Everdeen," she says smoothly. Her voice-it almost resembles a purr. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Um, yes. Is there any way I could get an audience with Paylor?" I ask. I curl my toes inwards, to hold on to a piece of myself in this unstable, crazy world of mine.

"_President_ Paylor, Ms. Everdeen," she says in that same purr-like voice again. "And while I cannot guarantee a consultation with the President, I can try for you." She pulls a plastic-glass-metal contraption out of her pocket, says something aloud in a language I don't know, and it turns on. "President Paylor, please." A hologram appears out of the contraption, an image of Paylor.

"Colette?" I hear the voice of Paylor say. Her image is moving. Is this what they call a holophone? It must be, but I'm no District 3 person.

"Yes. Ms. Everdeen would like an audience with you. Is that at all possible?"

Paylor nods, and hologram dissipates. "Well, Ms. Everdeen, why don't we come to see the president. "?


End file.
